


A Tale of Smut Prompts

by WinterWolfWitch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunken Kissing, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWolfWitch/pseuds/WinterWolfWitch
Summary: A little drabble I wrote for the following smut prompts:  1. "I'd hold onto something if I were you." 2. "I love it when you moan my name." 3 "Is this your first time?"
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Kudos: 15





	A Tale of Smut Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> Mild smut-fluff for my Cadash/Varric pairing, working my dialogues. Hope you enjoy! <3

“I’d hold on to something if I were you.” Roxy salaciously grinned over her hand of cards, leaning back in her chair as if the whole affair was a done deal. 

“Oh?” Varric drawled, one eyebrow raised in slight amusement. 

He didn’t look worried in the slightest, something she hated him for just the tiniest bit. It was a good thing then that the rest of her kept finding reasons to be irrationally turned on by his cockiness. 

She had thrown every trick in the book at him and then the book as well for good measure and he was still beating her at the one game she’d always prided herself on for being unbeatable at. She’d been playing Wicked Grace since before her little grubby hands had been big enough to hold all the cards. There wasn’t a cheat or a strategy she hadn’t done, seen or invented herself and yet.. Everytime she was so _sure_ she had his tells sussed out, was _convinced_ there was no way he could have cheated, he grinned that insufferable grin and beat her hand. Every.Fucking.Time. 

The pile of coins between them had grown steadily higher, just as her purse had grown increasingly flatter. She didn’t really care about the gold, she could always get more of that; no what grated most was the fact that he could unbalance her like this. There was just no reason for it, none whatsoever! Sure, he was handsome, in that “seen one too many rough fights, nights and shites” kind of way, but back in Ostwick, you couldn’t spit without hitting at least three guys like that without aiming. 

Only he wasn’t just a hard-hitting marksman and ruthlessly shrewd merchant, no, just when you decided you had him figured out, he’d turn around and out came the writer, with the ludicrously smooth and clever repartee that revealed the kind of humour and wit that was more enticing than the best set of arms and shoulders combined. Which he also had in spades. Because the Maker had decided that he didn’t have enough going for him already. _Maybe I have gone without for too long._

Suppressing a smirk, Roxy glanced down at her hand one more time, as if to reassure herself he had not somehow cheated her into thinking she had a winning hand when she didn’t. Four Knights and a Song. Only a full hand of Angels beat that and she had discarded one of those two rounds ago. From the shit-eating grin on his face, he thought he’d won when he so casually drew and revealed the Angel of death, but not this time. 

“So are you actually going to show me what you’ve got, or just wait until I die in anticipation?” 

Roxy was not about to let him rush her, this victory had been a very long time in the making and she was going to savour every moment of it. 

“Are you flirting with me, Varric? Because it’ll take a lot more than a few shiny coins for me to show you what I’ve got.” She leaned in a little and took a deliberate breath, satisfied when his eyes flicked down for just a second. 

Picking up his cup, Varric muttered: “What.. and wake up with a knife in my back? I don’t think so, Carta.” 

Resisting the urge to scowl at him—he knew full well how much that nickname irritated her—, Roxy fanned out her cards on the table instead, giving him a look of triumph. 

“Trust me, Tethras, if I want you dead, you’ll see it coming.” Winking conspiratorially, she half-lifted from her chair to better reach the fat pile of coins on the table when he reached out and covered her hands with his. 

“Hold up there, Knives, as much as I’d love to see you come, we’re not quite done here yet.” 

_I never should have told him Lachlan calls me that._

She could have easily removed her hand from under his, just as he didn’t need to leave it covering hers, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through her body and languorously coiled in her belly as she stared him down across the table. Would he back away if she leaned in just that little bit further and kissed him? It was definitely more than just the euphoria of victory that had her heart beating just that little bit faster. They’d been playing this flirting game for weeks, much to the exasperation of everyone around them, but it was one of the few things that kept her sane amongst the thousand of things that made her want to keep screaming inside her head if she thought about them for too long. 

Just when the long pause was starting to feel the tiniest bit awkward, he shook his head and released her hand. 

“You owe me at least a round if you are making off with all this bounty.” 

Roxy laughed, resisting the urge to do a victory dance as she raked the gold towards her. 

“Tell you what, I’m feeling generous, drinks are on me tonight.” _Not the only thing I could do with being on me._

There was something inscrutable in his gaze that almost made her suspicious, but she was enjoying herself far too much to investigate the feeling. 

********

Several rounds and tall tales later, they staggered out into the cold night air, pleasantly inebriated and somewhat unsteady. Roxana giggled when they kept bumping into each other like two fat chickens trying to get the same worm on the way back to their respective cabins. 

“I’m a little disappointed, Varric, I thought I was drinking with a professional, but you’re at least as pished as I am.” 

In truth they hadn’t drank that much and she was quickly sobering up now that she was getting some fresh air in her lungs, but she found herself looking for reasons not to take her leave from him just yet. There was nothing waiting for her but a cold mattress in an even colder cabin and tonight was the first night since she woke up in Haven that she actually felt a little like her old self. 

“Oh please, you were drinking so slow, I had to order two drinks at a time or die of thirst!.” 

She snorted derisively, getting ready to mock him for such a blatantly lie, but then lost her balance on a treacherous bit of rock and stumbled. Letting out a small squeal, she tried to catch herself, grappling with his sleeve, but ended up stepping on his toes instead. 

Varric cursed, momentarily hopping around on one foot. “Andraste’s balls, Roxy, my foot!” 

She clasped her hands across her mouth, stifling a laugh that would have echoed far too loud in the quiet of the night. Feeling emboldened by the liquid courage coursing through her veins, she sidled up to him, looping her arm through his and put her lips as close to his ear as she could without touching him. 

“I _love_ it when you moan my name.”

Varric made a strangled sound, but instantly forgot all about his injured foot as he was now too busy laughing. 

“Shit, Knives, you really need to work on your seduction techniques, if that’s what it takes.” 

“Oh really?!” 

Never one to back down from a challenge, perceived or otherwise, Roxy marched right up to him, grabbed his collar and planted a kiss on his lips that would have him breathless for a good five minutes. Or at least that’s what she intended to do. Of course she’d discounted the fact that they were both not exactly steady on their feet. Varric’s eyes just about had a chance to widen in surprise before they both lost their footing and toppled into the road, Roxy landing on top of him with an audible “oof”. 

Varric coughed and then tried to suck back the air that had been knocked from his lungs before his arms flopped to his sides in defeat. 

“Seriously, is this your first time?” 

Sputtering in protest and indignation, Roxy pushed herself up on his chest, causing him to groan in pain once more. 

His taunts were making her bristle and when she caught the twinkle in his eye, she knew it was exactly what he’d been hoping for and yet she couldn’t bring herself to _not_ rise to the challenge. 

His body was warm underneath her, a stark contrast to the cold air blowing across her back and she could feel his muscles bunch where her hands touched his chest. His long duster had fallen open and all it took for her to feel his skin under her fingers was to slide them into the wide open collar of his shirt. And so she did. 

His lips curled into a knowing smile, as if he knew full well she’d been dying to do that from the moment she laid eyes on him. _Insufferable dwarf!_

Yet she found her lips curling in a slow smile in response, as her fingers continued their exploration, revelling in the feeling of the thick hair caressing her palm. Her breasts pressed into his chest when she leaned in and kissed him again, slowly this time, savouring the sensation. Rough stubble touching the sensitive skin of her chin just briefly, then: warmth. Soft, moist and supply lips, meeting hers so perfectly. He led her lead the dance, pulling back when she did, holding back just enough to drive her crazy. She teased his bottom lip, slid her own across it with sensuous slowness and followed it with the just the bare tip of her tongue. He let out a low appreciative grumble that echoed through her chest with such a delicious timbre that she couldn’t think of anything but getting more. She took his head between her hands, running her thumbs across the outside of his ears in slow circles and deepened their kiss. Her tongue slipped in past his teeth, never rushing, but laying claim to his mouth with gentle determination.

He shifted underneath her, making her very much aware of how the rest of their bodies connected and just how perfectly they fit together. His hands came up to rest on her waist, just above the curve of her arse and she began to have thoughts of just letting nature take its course, right there in the middle of the road. There was a part of her that wanted to throw this ridiculous mockery back in their faces so they would show their true feelings. Here’s your precious “Herald of Andraste” having glorious and unbridled, passionate sex for all to see. Do you still want to hold her up as your shining beacon of faith? 

The brief, fleeting thought made her angry enough to add a layer of intensity to her kiss, her tongue now meeting his in a demand for surrender. She was breathing heavily now, warmth suffusing her body better than any alcohol and the way he was pressing up against the inside of her thigh told her they were fast approaching a “call or fold” situation. She just couldn’t make herself stop. This was the first time she had felt truly alive, felt like she wasn’t just running around in circles in her head trying so hard for something, _anything_ to make sense. He felt better than anything she’d encountered in a long time. He smelt of whisky and smoke and the oil he used on that ridiculous crossbow. How often had she watched him caress it almost tenderly, tending to it by the firelight. _Suck on that, Bianca, his hands are on my arse now_. 

“No underpants?” she murmured against his lips, when she realised the swell of him was a little _too_ obvious. 

He chuckled, hands sliding down to her arse and squeezing it by way of punishment. 

“Care to even the odds?” 

Strong hands cupping her cheeks and pressing her up against him just that little bit harder, just in case she’d missed the fact that he was up for this. Desire, lust and common sense waged war inside her, with sensibility about to become a prison of war. _Maker, I want him._

Voices sounded down the street and they broke their kiss, grinning at each other like children that had been caught doing something naughty. 

“As much as I would welcome an opportunity to disgust Cassandra, maybe we should take this somewhere else?” She tried not to sound too disappointed, but Maker it was hard. And so was he. 

Varric buried his head in the side of her neck, taking deep, calming breaths and chuckling appreciatively. 

“A woman after my own heart.” 

*******


End file.
